by Kova, Elise
“I don’t wish to speak about the Knights a moment longer. That is my burden and decision. No need to cloud our otherwise good day with it.” The note of finality in Fiera’s voice brooked no protest. “Denja, can you please outline our goal for this excursion?”
“Certainly, your highness. There are new stores for grains and other supplies brought in by the Empire around where the old wall used to be…”
Vi tried to pay attention to the conversation with half an ear, but her eyes were on the houses around them. The dictates of martial law were being lifted bit by bit; citizens were getting a few more hours each day to be about. But this hour was not one of them, and the city felt like a ghost town.
She glanced over her shoulder, unable to shake the perpetual feeling of someone watching them. The silence in a city so large was eerie—an unwelcome fifth companion.
Slowing, Vi caught Zira’s eye and the woman adjusted her pace until the two of them were side by side. Denja and Fiera took the lead, talking about current stocks and trade. Vi kept her voice hushed.
“Zira, do you feel like someone is watching us?”
“I feel like a thousand someones are watching us.” Zira looked to the upper floors of the buildings around them. Vi saw a curtain abruptly close in one of the windows. “But that is the point of this, as our princess has decreed.”
“Yes but…” Vi couldn’t put her finger on the uneasy feeling that crackled up her spine like the phantom sensation of the red magic of an evil god. It was akin to the nervous energy she’d felt before sailing into Adela’s stronghold. “I can’t shake the feeling that something is about to happen.”
“Should we head back to the castle?” The question was genuine, and Vi appreciated it down to her toes. Zira had no reason to give her so much faith, especially not when her worries were ambiguous.
“No, I don’t want to turn us around for a mere feeling.” Vi shook her head and tried to shake the sensations with it, but they clung to her like leeches. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
The four made it without incident to the storehouses. Vi felt far better the moment she saw the Imperial guards standing out front of the large barn-shaped buildings. Vi and Zira walked a quick perimeter as Denja and Fiera consulted with the quartermaster. The whole affair took less than an hour and was blessedly over without incident. They were on their way back when bells tolled over the city, reigniting Vi’s paranoia.
“The citizens are allowed out for an hour after the bells,” Zira explained.
Sure enough, doors began to open and people wandered, blinking into the streets. They seemed dazed, their senses dulled by long hours cooped up inside. One by one, they turned their faces skyward; the sun was the first thing their eyes met, as if to burn away the haze in their eyes. As if to greet it like an old friend. For the first block, none of the people even noticed the princess in their midst.
“Y-Your highness.” A woman was the first to turn their way. “You are free.” She dropped to her knees.
“As I have always been. As are we all.”
“The conqueror… what has he done to you, m’lady?” another young woman dared to ask.
“Only steal my heart.” Fiera gave a smile so tender and warm it could melt ice.
One look, and Vi nearly forgot all her prior questions about the genuineness of Fiera’s love for Tiberus—only to have them rushing back even stronger. Did she have a genuine smile? Or was it the look of someone desperate to save their home—someone who knew the safety of her people depended on them believing a beautiful lie?
It wasn’t her business, Vi tried to remember. She was here for the crystal weapons. She had enough on her plate when it came to love.
“He has stolen your heart, and your fire.” A male voice cut through Vi’s thoughts. The little crowd collecting around Fiera suddenly seemed far larger as Vi searched for the speaker. “The Fiera who led the Knights of Jadar, who was truly blessed by the Mother above, would’ve never given into the false sun.”
Vi’s eyes settled on the man, who had short black hair and a closely trimmed mustache. Zira took a step closer to Fiera, situating herself between the princess and her detractor.
“You might not be able to understand,” Fiera said, keeping her composure rock-solid and voice as soft as feathers, “but I truly do love him. He brightens my fire. And I will ensure he protect us all.”
Motion from Vi’s left caught her eye.
Like a bull rushing forward, a cloaked man pushed through the crowd. Vi’s eyes barely had time to land on a flash of silver. Zira wasn’t moving and wouldn’t notice in time, Denja had yet to react, Fiera was looking the other way—
“Mysst soto larrk,” Vi hissed under her breath, moving as she spoke. She drew her hand across her chest, moving as though she was drawing the blade from a hidden sheathe in her sleeve. Vi hoped it was enough to hide the flash of the glyph that created the weapon she now held.
Steel met steel as Vi pushed Fiera aside, stopping the assassin’s blade. But the hooded man paid her no heed. Instead, his dark gaze swung to Fiera.
“You should’ve died with your father,” he uttered darkly. “Traitor.”
Chapter Nine
The words were the man’s last.
The hand-guard of Vi’s dagger was flush to his blade. She slid it upward, the short pommel of hers butting against his. Vi used the force to beat the blade away; she had momentum, and the man was caught off-guard by the sudden assault.
Twisting, Vi threw her body into a lunge and sank her blade into his ear. As Vi withdrew, he crumpled.
She spun in place. Zira had already engaged the man who had first drawn their attention and had him on the ground in an instant. People were screaming, fleeing; chaos radiated around them, but Vi’s eyes scanned the windows and rooftops. The memory of the Knight’s attempt on her mother’s life at the Crossroads was suddenly fresh and—
Motion caught her eye.
Vi lifted a hand and sent a tendril of flame in a burst toward a rooftop. She used the motion to release her dagger back into her sleeve, the flash of fire and fabric hiding the unraveling remnants of light. Whoever had been on the roof darted away and didn’t return to the building’s edge. Vi linked arms with Fiera, briefly startled by how warm the woman was to her touch.
“Your highness, we must move you—”
“I will not be moved.” Fiera pulled her arm back, an offended expression at being manhandled briefly taking over her features. She spun in place, looking to the man Zira held at sword-point on the ground. The princess crossed over like a beast stalking prey. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent us.” The man narrowed his eyes at Fiera. “We didn’t need to be sent by anyone, because we no longer need a leader. We shall lead ourselves as we stand by our mission—to defend Mhashan from Southern invaders.”
“The war is over.”
“The war is only beginning.” A smile spread across his mouth. “Kill me, like you did the other Knights of Jadar. Those who made the mistake of being loyal to you until the end.”
“You are not my knight,” Fiera whispered.
Vi continued to scan the buildings. Denja, for her part, remained incredibly calm—far calmer than Vi would have expected from a commerce minister. Vi’s attention landed on her and they locked eyes for a long moment.
Denja had been the one to suggest going to the storerooms, hadn’t she? It wouldn’t have been hard to find dissenters and organize an attack with a few hours’ notice.
“No, I am not your knight. I am Mhashan’s Knight, one of the true Knights of Jadar,” the man insisted. “We have broken free of you. We do not need your orders.”
“You speak treason like it delights you.”
“Truth is what delights me.”
“I will not give you another chance to—”
“No, you won’t,” the man interrupted. “Just like you did not give your once-loyal Knights another chance on the docks that night.”
Vi frowned. Of c
ourse word would spread of what had happened at the docks. Most likely, Luke or Kahrin had started the rumors—Zira wouldn’t. Luke was Twintle’s son and Twintle could connect back to Denja. Lines of betrayal unfolded like a deadly map before her, one where a single misstep would lead one to death.
“What will it be, princess?” the man continued. The commoners watched from a wide distance. “Will you—”
Fiera clamped her hand over the man’s mouth. Fire poured from between her fingers and down his throat. Vi did not grimace or turn away; this was how Jax had described her father’s method for killing people.
Vi wondered if Aldrik was even aware of the similarity with his late mother. That the action was a dark, unlikely, perhaps even unintentional connection between them.
The man collapsed to the ground, his skin red and bubbling as Fiera straightened away. She smoothed out her clothes and tossed her hair over her shoulder, starting for the castle without a backward glance.
“No one touch them,” Fiera declared as they passed the ring of wide-eyed onlookers. “Do not burn them this evening for a Rite of Sunset. I want them to be strung up and branded as traitors. Let there be no doubt that my Empire has no room for those who stand against me. The only true knights are those at my side.”
Every man and woman seemed to hold their breath while Fiera’s eyes were on them. They were utterly captive to their fear. And while Vi could see a certain amount of shock in their stares, she was keenly aware that none of them seemed surprised.
Fiera was a double-edged sword. One side of her could slice through a man’s most iron-clad defenses with startling sweetness. The other side of her could cut a man down beginning with his ankles and working up from there.
The most fearsome thing was that Fiera clearly knew what she was, and had learned to wield her skills with deadly precision.
* * *
“Knights of Jadar,” Fiera muttered, pacing her personal quarters and worrying the heavy silver ring on her finger. Immediately after returning to the castle, Fiera had made her will known regarding the bodies of the traitors, sent Denja away, and summoned Vi and Zira to her rooms. “They called themselves ‘true Knights of Jadar.’”
“They wouldn’t be able to pass even the initial tests to become a Knight,” Zira muttered. She lounged in a large wingback chair by one of the windows of Fiera’s room, one leg draped lazily over the armrest. “They are cutthroats turned opportunists.”
“They make a mockery of my family.” Fiera clenched her hands into fists so tightly they trembled. Tiny tendrils of flame snaked through the air around them. “Being a Knight of Jadar was the greatest honor in all the West.”
Vi watched Fiera’s rage from where she leaned against the wall by the doorway, arms folded and holding her elbows. She tried to keep herself detached from the princess’s plight by reminding herself that this Fiera was not her family. Vi was merely here as a traveler, doing what she needed to do before leaving without a trace.
Yet the raw hurt that swirled almost visibly in the air around Fiera brought up emotions from the void that was always threatening to swallow Vi whole. Fiera’s eyes were glassy, as though she was nearly at the point of frustrated tears. Still the fire within them burned.
“What do you think?” Fiera asked Vi.
“Pardon?”
“I asked your thoughts, Yullia.” Fiera motioned toward her with an open hand, flames still writhing around her fingers. “Do you agree with Zira that these are opportunists and I do myself more of a disservice by giving them a platform with my anger?”
Vi only had to make a show of thinking about the answer. “I don’t think this was an isolated attack, unfortunately.”
“You don’t.” Fiera’s hand dropped to her side.
“I think there are those who cling to old Mhashan like a security blanket. Those who would’ve rather fought with every last breath for every last brick, regardless of the cost.”
“Those like my father.” Fiera pinched the bridge of her nose with a sigh and shook her head, walking over to one of the three large windows that dominated one wall of her sitting room. They towered over her, making even Fiera seem small. “He wanted to defend Norin until it was ashes. He would’ve seen every last man and woman of the kingdom die if that’s what it took to prevent Mhashan bending to Solaris.”
“Foolish men and their foolish honor.” Zira tipped her head against the side of the wingback, looking to Fiera. The princess was still avoiding eye contact with both of them.
“Foolish people who cannot see the world changing around them,” Fiera said thoughtfully. “We are a people surrounded by desert. Yet somehow, there are those who cannot see how power shifts like sand in the wind. It blows one way, then another. You can never expect it to be in the same place for long.
“Mhashan was not made strong because of our cities of immovable stone. The Ci’Dan family did not rise to prominence because we were rigid. It was because we could adapt.”
Vi continued to stare at the princess’s back. Fiera would give up everything to save what she loved. Not to preserve the world as she knew it, and had always known it—but to see it thrive, to continue on even if that meant letting it change.
A thought settled at the forefront of Vi’s mind: when she had gone to Meru to be the Goddess’s Champion, what had she been fighting for? Had she wanted to see her family thrive in whatever form that took? Or had she only wanted to see her family as she had envisioned them?
“The fact remains that not all possess your wisdom,” Vi said, silently including herself in the sentiment. “And those men and women will band together.”
“He said the war was only just beginning.” Fiera turned away from the window at last. “You said you believe the attacks will continue. How do you think they’ll strike next?”
“All wars need a general. In the case of the Knights of Jadar, that general is designated by a singular object—”
“A sword,” Fiera finished for her. “They will never lay their hands on my grandfather’s sword.”
“It sees the light of day rarely enough,” Zira murmured.
“They will go after it though, regardless of where it is. If they even sense the edge of its power, these false Knights will hunt it.” Vi braced herself for what she needed to ask next. “If I’m to be effective as your guard, I need to know where it is.”
For the first time, Fiera didn’t immediately acquiesce. Vi supposed she should be grateful; Fiera’s caution surrounding the sword was their first line of defense.
“It took me three years to lay eyes on it.” Zira stood. “Why do you think she should show you? You’ve only just entered her service.”
“Because my only goal is to protect it,” Vi said as earnestly as possible. She pushed away from the wall and allowed her arms to fall to her sides, abandoning her previously defensive position. “Because I have a sense about it, just as I had a sense earlier this day about the attack.”
“What sense?” Fiera looked between her and Zira.
“She did tell me as we were walking to the storehouse that she felt uneasy. But then again, we all did.”
Fiera debated this a moment before slowly approaching Vi. She searched Vi’s face and narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she could extract any falsehoods from Vi’s eyes alone. Vi worked to make sure she didn’t hesitate, which seemed nearly impossible under the woman’s relentless inspections.
“I need more from you,” she said finally. “Your words, the feeling of fate steeped in the air around you… it has gotten you this far. But I need more from you if I am to bestow this most prized secret on you.”
It was fair, more than fair. Vi had earned Fiera’s trust thanks to the woman’s senses. But she’d found the extent of that good will and now the real work would have to begin. Taavin had cautioned her as much.
“I see more than the future,” Vi confessed softly, her voice nearly quivering. She was walking a very fine, very dangerous line. “I was chosen by the Mother hersel
f to defend this world and the sword will play a role in that. Keeping it from falling into the wrong hands is all I desire.”
“Chosen by the Mother?” Zira repeated, though Vi couldn’t tell if her tone was one of belief or incredulity.
“It’s true,” Vi continued, speaking directly to Fiera. “And if you take me to the sword, I can give you proof of my claim that will satisfy you.” Fiera was immobile as a statue, listening, waiting. It was that expectant tension that had Vi adding, “Should it not, then kill me there and I will take the secret of the sword’s location to my grave.”
The princess took a step backward, then nodded. She glanced to Zira and said, “I’m going to accept Yullia’s offer. Keep your blade ready.”
Zira gripped the pommel of her sword and Vi’s heart began to race.
Fiera was ever the double-edged sword and Vi walked the ridge down the middle. Would she end on the side that would protect her? Or was the sharper edge about to be turned against her?
Her future with Fiera balanced on what happened next and, unfortunately for Vi, she had no idea what she was about to do to earn the trust she needed.
Chapter Ten
Luckily, Vi had a bit of a walk to think about her plans. Even better, the walk was done entirely in silence. Fiera led them down through the castle with Vi in the middle and Zira behind her.
As Vi walked, she scribbled down a mental list of things she could do to prove to Fiera she was meant to have the sword. She could try to look into the future and if that didn’t work, perhaps summon a glyph? That would seem mysterious enough.
They entered through empty passages clearly meant for soldiers—those men and women still locked away at the order of the Emperor. Fiera led them past a desk that must once have belonged to the quartermaster, and through one of three doors that led to a mostly empty armory. Every part of Norin had been impacted by the ten-year siege. The city was like a carcass that the Empire was slowly, bite by bite, licking clean.
